It has a lot in common with writing. Really. This morning as I shoveled our driveway after the latest snowstorm, it occurred to me that the effort has much in common with writing. (I don't know about you but much of my writing inspiration comes when I work outside, but that is beside the point.)
Back to the subject. Today's snow was a nice fluffy powder, making the effort light and easy. I told myself, isn't that just like writing sometimes, where the work flows without interruption and almost seemingly without effort.
Then there are the days where the stuff has been preceded by rain or melting and each shovelful feels like a ton and like I'll never get done. Just like the days writing when each word takes heavy lifting and finishing one paragraph feels like forever.
Then there are the days of little depth where you figure why bother, and the days of blizzard and wind and drifts that blow back on you and you accomplish little other than waiting for the snow to stop so you can start all over again.
A common denominator is that the shoveling, like the writing, does end at some point good, bad, or indifferent and I can look back at what I have accomplished, or attempted. But there is another common denominator (math teachers, I know, I know): I like shoveling snow whether light, fluffy, or heavy, one and done or more on the way. I welcome the effort and look back with satisfaction on a job completed or ahead to what still needs to be done.
